


Fade Tongue

by batsy22



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fade Kiss, Falling In Love, Fluff, excessive roasting of Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsy22/pseuds/batsy22
Summary: Dorian overhears a conversation between Lavellan and Solas about “fade tongue.” He and the companions tease Solas about it.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Fade Tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hes5thlazarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hes5thlazarus/gifts).



> Inspired by this scene from Star Trek Deep Space Nine https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLtRyb_HeB8

The kiss was a mistake, one Solas cannot bring himself to truly regret. She is so unlike what he has come to expect from the Dalish, a woman with a subtle wisdom so rare in this world. Lavellan has the sort of revolutionary zeal he has not seen in a thousand years, “a new world struggles to be born, but we must fight to make it be” he had heard her say to the new Dalish recruits, a slogan that was once his. 

“You’re distracted today,” Blackwall smiles as he plays his hand, “thinking about the Inquisitor?” 

Solas did not anticipate this growing friendship with the Warden, but it is not unpleasant. Blackwall is a man who has seen war, understands both its horror and his necessity, and is clever enough to be interesting. Solas actually finds himself looking forward to their weekly Diamondback games. Blackwall however has recently developed a tendency towards overt nosiness, his crude questioning about relationships with spirits was unfortunately a harbinger of things to come. 

“I am unsure what relevance my relationship to Inquisitor Lavellan is to you.” 

“Didn’t mean anything by it. Just overheard Dorian in the tavern earlier. And there was some crude song from Sera, I imagine you don’t want repeated.”

Solas sighs. Perhaps he deserves this. It was far too much to hope that a simple kiss in the Fade would not spread across the entire Inquisition. He says nothing and plays his hand. Blackwall looks at his own cards and then his own, and groans. Solas cannot help but smirk as he sweeps the pile of silver coins towards himself. 

“Where did you even learn how to play Diamondback?” he asks exasperated. 

“Here and there,” Solas replies. Taught by Wisdom while he dreamt in urthernia. While trapped in the Fade for countless ages, one quickly runs out of topics to discuss. Fortunately, an aspiring mage in the kingdom of the Dales had left a deck of cards as an offering on one of the old shrines. A good gift, far better than the awful smelling incense they were prone to use. 

Blackwall sighs. “Well I got nothing else to bet besides the clothes off my back. And I know better from last time. Let’s call it a night then.” 

Solas nods in agreement, this rumor about the kiss with Lavellan is something he would rather wait out. If he spends the rest of the evening dreaming in the library, he may just avoid further scrutiny. It seems this is too much to hope for. 

Dorian enters the rotunda and sits directly on the desk. Solas cannot help but be fascinated with how the Tevinter can draw all attention in a room to him, Elgar’nan himself could have learned from him. Dorian grins, amused at a joke only he evidently knows. He crosses his legs and looks like he expects applause. 

“May we help you, Dorian?” Solas asks with just enough warning in his tone.

Dorian first adjusts his hair, a flourish Solas has come to expect from the flamboyant Tevinter mage. “You can indeed, Solas,” he says,” See, I overheard the most fascinating conversation this morning. There I was in the library, trifling through the Southern drivel they pass off as magical knowledge here when I heard from the floor below the words ‘Fade-tongue.’ Followed by the most interesting discussion with the Inquisitor as to whether tongue in the Fade ‘counts.’” 

“Fade Tongue? I’m telling Sera,” says Blackwall. 

“You will not mention a word to Sera,” he glares. Dorian continues to grin at him. ”And tell me Dorian, are you familiar with the work of Enchanter Trevasan? His work pioneered the use of wards to muffle sound. Perhaps you and Iron Bull would find it of interest for nights at camp?” 

Dorian clutches his heart in mock outrage. “Are you...sassing me, Solas? You’ll certainly have to do better than that.”

Solas has destroyed many a noble’s reputation through wit alone, back when he was still Mythal’s dog. Dorian and the others always seem surprised when he proves himself more than adept at verbal sparring, it is not perhaps a skill an elvhen apostate in this world would have. Sometimes Solas cannot deny himself this small indulgence. 

“Extensive use of rope for any purpose can impact use of limbs. I merely worry for your magical aptitude, especially considering your rather flashy style.” 

“Yes perhaps the Fade would prove a more suitable environment for such activities. I imagine there’d be less of a mess,” says Dorian. “I do wonder what the spirits think?” 

“You two blabbing about shagging spirits again?”, says Sera as she joins the fray, “ain’t natural all that. Brothel’s down the road.” Sera mischievously grins at him, and Solas braces himself for something offensive. “So you and the Lady Inquisitor? You two making kissyfaces at each other?” 

“Is it not customary for you to be in the tavern at this hour, Sera?” asks Solas. Not the most biting of insults but Solas knows better than to think she can be pacificied with wit. Solas sighs. What happened in the Fade was a mistake, he told the Inquisitor as much. It was an unnecessary cruelty for Lavellan born out of the most uncomfortable of desires, he’d like to ignore it. It seems that Tarasyl'an Te'las itself will not let him do so. 

“It seems they are indeed ‘making kissyfaces at each other’ but only in the Fade,” says Dorian, “There was discussion earlier as to whether or not tongue in the Fade counts.” Curse the acoustics of the rotunda, he really ought to find a more quiet spot. 

Sera cringes. “Ewwww. Don’t count if it’s in dreamland.” 

“I know a lovely spirit of pleasure that may disagree, my dear,” says Dorian. These two deserve each other, Solas thinks. Sera covers her ears.

“Well now you made it awkward,” says Blackwall. 

“Lalalalala. Don’t wanna hear bout whatever weird things you stick your bits in.” 

It is in that very moment that the poised Inquisition ambassador Lady Josephine Montilyet enters. Solas watches as her eyes move from Sera dancing about the rotunda with her hands over her ears to Dorian sitting crosslegged on the table to Blackwall with his head in his hands. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No Ambassador, please,” Solas does his best to keep the desperate tinge out of his voice. “Please do stay. What can I assist you with?” His only hope is that shame will compel better behavior from his companions.

Dorian pipes up. “Tell me, Lady Josephine, do you believe a kiss in the Fade, one evidently involving ‘tongue’, counts as one in the real world? There seems to be much disagreement.” 

“Do you believe wit is determined by repetition?” Solas snaps. 

Josephine opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first.”A kiss in the Fade that is…”, she blushes, “quite romantic.” Dorian laughs. Sera chortles. Blackwall sighs and eyes him with sympathy. 

Josephine clears her throat. “I-well. I only wished to ascertain the truthfulness of a certain rumor in the Orlesian court. Forgive me for being blunt, but it is said that you are being courted by Inquisitor Lavellan. My intention was to ascertain its truthfulness and develop our official response.”

“There is no courtship between the Inquisitor and I. I would prefer not to discuss this further,” he says curtly. It is not Josephine’s fault he knows, but he does not enjoy this intrusion or reminder of what happened. 

“You kiss her, with tongue, in the Fade, but there is no courtship? How unorthodox of you, Solas.” teases Dorian. 

Sera giggles. “Solas and Inky sitting in the Fade. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” The melody doesn’t even make sense. 

“Well do excuse me for intruding, I think I shall…”

“Leave the poor lad alone, Think he’s starting to blush.” 

“Uh, what the fuck?” says Varric as he enters, “you know what, I’m not even gonna ask. Just wanted to…” 

“I assume, Child of the Stone, you wish to inquire about my relationship with Inquisitor Lavellan? The topic seems to be quite popular today.” 

“No, but shit, you and the Inquisitor? That’s definitely going in the story.” 

“As I have said, there is no…” 

“A party!” exclaims Iron Bull, “love it. Why are we all standing in the rotunda though?”

“Ah Amatus, Solas here had some very interesting ideas about sex in the Fade. Would you like to share, Solas?” 

“I just wanted to play Diamondback,” laments Blackwall. Sera chortles. Varric begins unsubtly taking notes. Iron Bull looks alarmed, then pensive, and finally agreeable to Dorian’s suggestion. Josephine tries to excuse herself once more, the door opens before she can do so. 

Inquisitor Lavellan enters and the room falls silent. It’s the burden of apotheosis, one he knows well. He looks up at her and he cannot help but smile. She looks around puzzled at first, then determined. “What’s going on here?” she asks. 

Josephine answers first, all poise even in the most chaotic of situations. “Ah Inquisitor. I cannot speak for the others of course, but I wished to ask Monsieur Solas about…” 

“ Hey Inky, heard you and Solas were snogging in the Fade. I wrote a song about if you wanna hear.” 

Lavellan’s face is unreadable, a skill he has seen her hone over this past year. “Perhaps later Sera,” she says. 

“Why don’t we give them a moment?,” suggests Blackwall. 

“Yeah let’s get in a game of Wicked Grace in the tavern before we ship out tomorrow. Gotta regain my dignity from last time,” says Varric. The two manage to drag Sera along with them, Bull follows them. Josephine finally successfully excuses herself. Dorian looks just slightly embarrassed, but is trying not to show it. Solas cannot help but enjoy watching him squirm under the Inquisitor’s gaze. “Anything clever you’d like to say in parting?” asks Solas. 

“No darling, my wit is a gift and one I mustn't overuse. If I am too clever on a given day, you shall lose appreciation for the true wonder of it. And we cannot have that can we?” 

“Evidently we cannot,” says Solas flatly. 

“ In that case, we are agreed.” Dorian courtesies before leaving them alone. 

“Lethallin,” he greets, but in his mind though he thinks of another word, one he cannot help but associate her with. He cannot forget the kiss, or truly regret it. He recognizes this feeling, the tenderness of blossoming affection between the two of them, and he cannot help but nurture it. 

“Lethallin,” she says back. Solas meets Lavellan’s eyes and instinctively smiles.


End file.
